


Strong Enough to Carry Him

by icandrawamoth



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2020 [17]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Alphabet Squadron Series - Alexander Freed, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, February Ficlet Challenge, February Ficlet Challenge 2020, Force-Sensitive Wyl Lark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Link, Mind Meld, Missions Gone Wrong, Telepathy, The Force, Trust, force trauma, title from He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23023114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: “He would have felt all of that through the Force,” Cal says, horror sitting cold in his gut at the thought. And Wyl, being so new to his abilities, wouldn't have known how to block it out, how to let it flow through him. How to simplydealwith being in tune with something like that.
Relationships: Cal Kestis/Wyl Lark
Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2020 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624723
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2020





	Strong Enough to Carry Him

**Author's Note:**

> For February Ficlet Challenge prompt "using a sense other than sight."

Cal knows long before Alphabet Squadron lands on the _Lodestar_ that something is wrong. From the moment the starfighters burst out of hyperspace, he can feel Wyl's sense crying out to him – full of pain, fear, and confusion.

Cal waits anxiously in the hangar, waiting as the ships come in. Wyl's A-wing is last, following Quell's X-wing closely, mechanically. Cal may not know much about fighters, but he's gotten to know his boyfriend, and he knows Wyl isn't in the ship. Or if he is, he isn't flying it. Cal casts his senses out – and _there_. He's beside the U-wing before the ramp has even started to lower.

But Quell is quick too, already racing across from her settled ship.

“What happened?” Cal asks sharply. “What happened to Wyl?”

“An attack,” Quell says grimly, “while we were on the ground. He was nearest, and-”

Cal's heart has already climbed up his throat, but he knows Wyl is alive. He can sense him. Even though the turmoil, he's alive. The ramp begins to lower.

There he is. Hunched over in a seat with his hands clamped in his dark hair, rocking back and forth a little.

Cal is beside him before he's conscious of moving.

“Wyl,” he murmurs, but there's no response. It's like he hasn't heard him.

“ _What happened?_ ” Cal demands again, without turning to look. He knows Quell followed him in.

“He was surveying the area when a bomb went off in school. As far as we can tell, he wasn't physically injured, but he's been like this ever since.”

It hits Cal quite suddenly what must have happened, and he swears. Wyl flinches a little; so he's somewhat present after all. “It's going to be all right,” Cal murmurs to him. “I've got you.” He glances over his shoulder. “How many people?”

Quell is pale and drawn. “The middle of a school day in a medium-sized town? Scores. What does that have to do with Lark?”

“He would have felt all of that through the Force,” Cal says, horror sitting cold in his gut at the thought. And Wyl, being so new to his abilities, wouldn't have known how to block it out, how to let it flow through him. How to simply _deal_ with being in tune with something like that.

Behind him, Quell draws in a sharp breath.

“I can help him,” Cal says, calming himself as much as he can. “I have some experience with this sort of thing.” It's not exactly the same as the traumatic Force echoes he's experienced, but he thinks it might be close enough.

That's all he has time to explain to Quell, because Wyl is hurting, and Cal needs to make it stop. He moves forward, goes to his knees before the other man and reaches up to touch his arm. “Wyl,” he says again, softly, gently beckoning his attention. “Can you look at me?”

Wyl is shivering under his touch, fingers still twisting spasmodically in his hair, but he manages to tilt his head enough to reveal wide, wild dark eyes. “Cal.” His voice cracks on the simple word. “I can still – still feel – it _hurts_.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I'm going to help you, okay? You trust me?”

Wyl hides his face again and whimpers, “Please, Cal.”

"I'm here," Cal murmurs, pressing a gentle wave of comfort at him through the Force. Then his hands move, raising from Wyl's arm to trace his cheeks, then brace at his temples. It isn't entirely necessary for Cal to be touching him to do what he's about to, but it will help both of them concentrate. "Listen to me, Wyl," he says quietly into the small space between them. "I know you're hurting. I know you're scared. But I need you to open up for me. Let me in. I promise I'm going to help you."

Wyl takes a shuddery breath, and his head jerks in a tiny nod.

Cal's closes his eyes and breathes, stretching out with the Force, prodding gently at the edges of Wyl's mind. His barriers are up, fortified by his fear and shock, reflexively protecting himself. Cal is stronger than he is, has far more training, could easily barge in without his cooperation, but he would _never_.

"Relax," Cal breathes, gently stroking Wyl's temples. "Remember the exercises we've done. Lower your barriers. Like reducing the power to your A-wing's shields."

Wyl shivers a little, and Cal can feel him struggling, but then he begins to do it - Cal senses his mental shields retreating, leaving him more open to the Force, more open to Cal's presence.

"Good," Cal praises him and steps into his mind.

It will never not be strange to be inside another's head. Cal hasn't experienced it often, and even with someone has familiar to him as Wyl, there's a sense of not belonging. Of not being himself. But he presses on, as gently as he can.

Here, there is no sight, merely sense. Wyl's emotions whirl around him, pain and fear and desperation like a buffeting wind shoving Cal toward the turbulent center. Everything in him, in them, focuses on that one thing.

Within moments, Cal is there, heart in his throat as he beholds the trauma Wyl has sustained. It's a formless, shapeless thing, whirling darkly at the center of his mind, a mass of hurt and confusion and wrongness. Cal can sense the way Wyl desperately wants it gone, but there's something else too.

Wyl is _clinging_ to that pain, metaphorical fingers digging in so tightly. Like when that wave of impressions carried to him by the Force had hit, instead of riding it out and letting it go, he'd compulsively latched on, much like a person burned suddenly unable to let go of the scalding object.

Cal centers himself as he approaches the center of feeling, keeping himself as open as he had instructed Wyl to be. He speaks, silently, into Wyl's mind: _Let me help you. Let go. Give it all to me._

Again he feels Wyl's struggle, his mental fingers barely managing to loosen their grip at all.

 _It's all right,_ Cal promises. _I know it's hard. I've been here too. But you have me. Let me take this from you._

All at once, Wyl buckles, and the mass of feeling flows into Cal. He gasps aloud with it, _terror_ and _agony_ and _desperation_ swamping him for breathless moments until he manages to regather himself and release it into the Force.

In seconds, it's gone, and Cal comes back to himself, panting, on his knees on the floor of the transport, gazing up into Wyl's eyes.

Wyl is gasping for breath, too, faint tear tracks on his cheeks. Cal gently wipes them away, and Wyl presses into the touch.

"Thank you," the pilot whispers. "I don't - know what that was."

"You haven't had enough training to deal with something like that," Cal tells him, determinedly keeping his voice gentle, not letting his burgeoning bitterness at himself for letting that happen seep in. "I'm glad I was here to help. I wish I could have done it sooner."

Wyl nods, his eyes drifting closed. "I can still feel some of it. It was still...bad."

"I can't take the memories away," Cal tells him, feeling some measure of regret at the fact. "It's still something you experienced that'll need working through, but it won't be able to actively hurt you any longer."

Wyl just breathes for a few moments before he manages, "I never want to go through something like that again."

"I wish I could say you won't. But we'll train more. You'll be better equipped to handle it if there is a next time."

Wyl lets out a soft sigh, sounding resigned.

Cal stands, wobbling only for a moment, before reaching to help Wyl up. "For now, let's get you to your bunk. You must be exhausted."

"But the debriefing..." Wyl protests feebly as he lets Cal guide him.

"It can wait." Cal had forgotten Quell was there, and a glance over his shoulder shows her watching the two of them like she doesn't quite know what to make of what she's just witnessed. "Take care of yourself, Lark."

Wyl sags with relief. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

She nods, then disappears down the egress ramp after a last long look.

"Can you make it your bunk?" Cal asks, easing an arm around Wyl's waist. He's as shaky as Cal after what they've shared.

"I think I can manage just about anything right now if it means sleep on the other end," Wyl answers with a weak smile.

Fondness swells in Cal's chest, and he pulls him close for a moment, laying a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'll take of you. I promise."


End file.
